


Best Served Cold

by daftalchemist



Series: A Loosely Related Series of Events [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Tentacle Dick, but not very much, on the air, ridiculously adorable Cecil, slight orgasm denial, slightly dommy Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos knows the perfect way to get back at Cecil for the embarrassment the radio host caused him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Beta credit to sub3rduck. He knows who he is, and he is awesome.
> 
> Not much fluff to this one. Enjoy the straight smut, guys.

“It seems the, uh...hard-working sandwich artists at Subway h-have...found themselves cah-AH... _catering_ to a group of particularly grumpy customers,” Cecil stammered, breathing much harder than someone who was doing a radio show should be. “The building ha-...has been overrun by m _ahng_... _malevolent_ sh _-ha_ dowy figures that seem to be demanding more mayo.”

The show was a disaster, and it was all Cecil's fault. He took great pride in his professionalism, in his ability to keep, well, _mostly_ calm under fire. But most importantly, he took great pride in his adeptness and willingness to give Night Vale it's nightly news in a levelheaded and concise manner. Tonight was anything but levelheaded, and the amount of stumbling he was doing through the written pages he had was keeping it from being concise.

If Cecil had known his show was going to end up like this, he might have acted a little differently earlier that night.

He wouldn't have lit up as bright as stadium lights when Carlos quietly slipped into his booth during the sponsor message. He wouldn't have almost ripped the cable clean out of his headset to jump up and greet him. He wouldn't have nuzzled at Carlos' five o'clock shadow, or threaded his fingers through Carlos' gorgeous locks of hair, or spent what could have been considered a bit longer than socially acceptable kissing Carlos hello. He wouldn't have gleefully announced over the air that his beloved boyfriend had come to visit him, and he certainly wouldn't have invited him to sit in on the rest of the show.

No, if Cecil had any sense at all when it came to Carlos, he would have remembered the devious thing he had done to him in that very room just a few weeks ago. He would have wondered why Carlos was suddenly showing up at Night Vale Community Radio after avoiding it for so long.

Instead Cecil had ended up wondering when exactly Carlos had gotten under his desk, and how he hadn't noticed until a hand was in his pants and his tightly coiled cluster of tentacles had started to unfurl.

Carlos languidly sucking on each tendril in turn was the most agonizing thing Cecil had ever experienced, and he'd spent a year without knowing Carlos' love, so he knew what true agony was. But the wonderful, gorgeous, perfect man's tongue running along the bottom of just one of his tentacles made him tremble and whine, and the black liquid running in horrific rivulets down Carlos' chin was just obscene, that perfect hair falling forward into gorgeous eyes full of cruel, cruel mischief. It was intoxicating, and Cecil wanted nothing more than to stuff that talented mouth full with writhing tentacles and scream his way to orgasm, but he was on the air and he still had another local story to talk about before he could even _think_ about switching over to the weather. Just thinking about having to sit through this torment any longer made him whimper, his mind slipping away into the welcoming depths of pleasure pooling in his groin. But Carlos chuckled, and the vibrations from it jarred Cecil out of his own thoughts with a strangled sob before he realized he had grasped Carlos by his perfect hair in a subconscious effort to make him suck harder, and remembered that _he was still on the air_.

“It h _ah_...has been reported that they are now huddling...ah, around the ovens, as the warmth see-...seems to dissipate the f _ig_ ures into mostly harmless fumes.” 

Oh, this would be the end of his career. Cecil wasn't going to be able to go out in public for a week, at _least_. There was no way the diligent listeners of Night Vale wouldn't figure out what was happening. He should _never_ have let them know Carlos was in the studio.

“And s-speaking of food,” Cecil continued, voice marginally shakier than before, which was already incredibly shaky, “some local artists have... _ha_ -have spent _hun_ dreds of dollars on perishable foods, j _ah_ -just to leave them outside to rot in the hot desert sun.”

This was falling apart much more quickly than he'd expected. He just needed to get through this piece; push through it as quickly as possible and get to the weather. Oh geez, he _hoped_ Carlos was planning to let him finish during the weather.

“They say it's a commentary on h-how much food so many of us waste day after day,” Cecil continued, rushing through the words as he focused on keeping his voice steady, “when all that wasted food _could_ go t-to—oh _GOD_ —would you _please-_ ”

Cecil buried his face in his hands, so frustrated he wanted to cry and angrily demand Carlos either finish him or leave because he was ruining _everything_. Cecil's cheeks burned, partlyat the embarrassing outburst but _mostly_ because Carlos had sucked two more tentacles between those luscious lips and had twined the other two through his fingers and given them a soft _tug_ and this amazing man was going to be Cecil's undoing.

His third eye had opened, making everything go all infrared, as though he needed the thermographic whites and yellows blinding him to tell him that his body was overheating, and everywhere Carlos touched was like an inferno. The attention he was lavishing on Cecil was unbearable; tears stung his eyes as he did his best not to whimper pitifully at the searing heat in his abdomen, the unrelenting urge to thrust deeper into that talented mouth. But he held on, or tried to, because it was only fair that he gave Carlos a turn to make an embarrassment out of him. So he kept his tentacles still, and continued with a live show instead of using prerecorded segments, and tried not to cry as Carlos exacted his sweet revenge on him.

A quick pinch on his inner thigh brought Cecil yelping back to attention, and Carlos chuckled around him again, vibrating through Cecil so wonderfully that his brain would have turned completely to jelly again if he wasn't suddenly aware of how much dead air he had allowed to happen, and how horribly unprofessional that was, and that was _it_.

“Traffic,” Cecil exclaimed in irritation, completely at the end of his rope. “Roads work in reverse now. Drive home, you'll never get there. Drive the opposite direction, and home in _no_ time.”

He tightened his grip on Carlos' hair, and immediately sucked a strangled breath through his teeth as Carlos moaned in response.

“And now,” he said, voice as slower, calmer, “ _the weather_.”

The twinkle in Carlos' eyes at Cecil losing his composure was endearing and even arousing for a moment, but when he kept with his slow pace, Cecil began to panic, knowing he'd never be able to keep this up through the _whole show_.

“Carlos, please,” he begged, but the scientist gave no response, and Cecil trembled in alarm. “Carlos, _please_.”

Still no response, his expression stony and focused, as though he wasn't even listening, and the tears that had been clinging to Cecil's eyelashes finally streamed down his cheeks.

“Please, Carlos, _please_ , oh _god_ ,” he babbled. “I'm sorry, I really—I'm so _sorry_. I shouldn't have—I won't do it again. Just...I can't, not for the whole show. I _need_ this. I need you to-”

He trailed off into choked sobs and hiccups as Carlos slowly pulled away, Cecil's tendrils twitching in the cold air. He whined in despair; was Carlos going to leave him like this, leave him to finish it himself?

Carlos licked at the black fluid staining his lips, and Cecil shuddered at the sight even as he whined at the cruel grin Carlos was giving him. It was torture, that's what it was. Carlos was torturing him, and he hadn't even filled out the necessary permits for it, Cecil was certain of it.

And then Carlos' hand was twined through his tentacles, and Cecil keened at the pressure and the friction of every subtle twitch of those wonderful fingers, and Carlos chuckled at the sight.

“I've broken the voice of Night Vale,” he smirked.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Cecil sobbed in agreement. “You have, you absolutely have.”

And then Carlos was taking all five tendrils into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to suck on them in earnest, his tongue wriggling against them all from the center of the mass. Cecil _wailed_ , all three of his eyes screwed shut and teeth sharpening just in time to draw blood as he bit his lip and moaned as his orgasm rushed through him like a tidal wave, horrifying black fluid leaking from Carlos' mouth and dripping from his nose in alarming amounts. But he persevered—that wonderful, beautiful, _perfect_ man—and he didn't stop until Cecil was completely spent, slumped and trembling in his chair.

Carlos spit as much of the black liquid out as he could, but his mouth was still coated in the stuff, as though he had just had a petroleum cocktail. The sleeve of his lab coat soon matched in color as he wiped off his lips and chin, though stains still remained on his skin like shadows of a memory, and Cecil shivered at the thought of people seeing him like that as he left, knowing what had happened.

Carlos stood and pressed a kiss to Cecil's lips, giving him a taste of his own ejaculate, and Cecil whined against his boyfriend's lips, the thought of sharing that flavor with him causing terrible tingling sensations in Cecil's overly sensitive tentacles.

Cecil palmed the very prominent bulge in Carlos' pants, humming happily at how much Carlos had enjoyed himself, but knowing there wasn't enough time left in the weather to reciprocate the pleasure he'd just received.

“What about this?” he asked earnestly, not wanting to seem ungrateful by wishing Carlos a good night and seeing him out the door.

“Don't worry,” Carlos said with a smile. “You'll be taking care of that after the show.”

“I will?” Cecil asked.

“Mhm,” Carlos hummed. “How else would you thank me for tonight?”

It seemed odd to Cecil, for a moment, that he should _need_ to thank Carlos for embarrassing him at his job, but he realized it was Carlos' way of saying “this ends here”, because, really, neither of them wanted it to escalate past this.

“Of course!” Cecil exclaimed. “I will absolutely thank you later for...what you did for me.”

And with that, Carlos was gone, leaving Cecil to straighten himself up and somehow get through the rest of the show while burdened with the knowledge that an incredibly gorgeous, _aroused_ man would be waiting for him when he got home.

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS I'M DOING A THING. I'M WARNING YOU ABOUT MY NEXT FIC. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THIS.  
> It's not fluffy. It's not nice. It was an idea born from a terrible day of work and is so harsh it will have a TRIGGER WARNING FOR RAPE. I'm not fucking around here. If you don't think you'll like it, I really do not blame you if you don't want to read it. REST ASSURED, the fifth fic I've written is fluffy as SHIT along with the usual hellish Night Vale stuff I've written in it. Like I felt grossly sappy writing it, that's how fluffy it is. I'm not used to writing so much fluff. So please, don't assume all my fic from now on will be like the next one and hate me or anything. It's just an idea I had to write.


End file.
